


A Different Tact

by TheArchimage



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood, Devil May Cry 5 Spoilers, Gen, Minor Violence, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Sibling Rivalry, discussions of fatherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchimage/pseuds/TheArchimage
Summary: Dante and Vergil attempt to relate to each other without the use of violence. They are as terrible at this as they have always been.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	A Different Tact

The sky was shades of mottled gray, the skyline broken up only by twisted structures of bark and bone. Devastation and ruin stretched out as far as the eyes could see. The ground had the same aesthetic, a mass of veins and vines that once could have belonged to some ancient being that was now long dead. It was difficult to imagine anything living here. But there were two figures resting on that desolate landscape, one in a red coat which blended in and the other in striking blue. The one in blue was laying on his back, splayed out, eyes closed. He held his sword, the Yamato, by the sheath in his left hand. The blade rested as its master rested, seemingly at peace but ready to uncoil and awaken at the slightest provocation.

Speaking of provocations, his younger twin Dante paced not far from where Vergil was resting. “How long you going to watch this boring sky?” he asked. “We can’t spend all our time resting. I’ve had just as rough a day as you but the way out of here isn’t getting any closer.”

“I spent quite a long time here already,” Vergil said. “It does not compare to the vistas of Earth, but when this is all you have you learn to appreciate it. We each indulge our humanity in different ways, Dante. I would think you would have learned that by now.” Vergil banged the back of his head against the ground with a heavy sigh. “Conversing with you was so much simpler when I could stab you once I got bored.”

Dante sighed and shook his head, propping the Devil Sword Dante on his shoulder. “Now that at least is something we can agree on. But until we can get back and beat up your smart-ass kid we’ve gotta play by his rules.”

His son. Up until only a few days ago he did not even know he had a son. Being only one-quarter demon should have made him so weak as to be beneath notice, but Nero had proven himself to have a power all his own. It was difficult to say how strong it was after only a single bout but it was enough to take him by surprise and overwhelm him before he realized he would have to take the battle seriously. Fluke or no, Vergil lost fairly. His pride would not allow him to admit it out loud, but to himself? He did not live as long as he did by being ignorant of his own strengths and weaknesses. Even if he mistook what those were.

He was still trying to process what he learned about himself while he was split in two. Urizen… in a way Vergil pitied him. Driven by desires he could not articulate. Tearing apart everything to grow the Qlipoth and become the King of Hell without ever knowing why. Even at the very end he never understood his own drive for power and why the need to kill Dante was so all-encompassing in his thoughts. Urizen was everything Vergil thought he wanted, but when he sifted through the memories of his demon half he felt only a profound emptiness. By comparison V’s memories were too bright and clear to be looked at directly. The hatred was still there; seeing with unclouded eyes it was clear his rage toward Dante stemmed from his mother saving his younger twin instead of him. Even if he could rationalize that there was no good reason to take his rage at that unfairness out on Dante, it did little to combat the flames of that hatred. But it did give Vergil the context he needed to work through the feelings he had been trapped in since his defeat at Dante’s hands in the crumbling ruins of Temen-Ni-Gru.

Alright. Then he would work through them.

Vergil clenched his teeth and spoke to the sky. “Do you have… _any_ idea.” He could hear a laugh begin to roll through Dante’s throat, as though he already knew what his older brother was about to say. “How utterly obnoxious it is. To spend your entire life honing your skills. To master your blade with your own strength. To reach the absolute height of your powers. And then your little brother comes along and casually knocks aside your best attacks by doing poses he saw in a movie one time?”

“You make it sound so easy,” Dante shrugged. “But I worked pretty hard on ‘those poses’. Just like it took you forever to learn your own skills.” That earned nothing but a derisive snort from Vergil. “Ugh, this is rough. Have we ever been able to see eye-to-eye?”

“We got along great when we were children.”

“Really?” Dante asked. “I don’t remember that.”

“It was before you learned to speak.”

There was a pause as Dante processed that. “Geez,” he said with a chuckle. “Even your jokes are dry. But at least you can tell them. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

Hearing that from Dante did not make him any happier. “If there is one thing that surprises me, Dante, it’s that you never had children. You must have had far more opportunities to do so than I have. You have a legitimate, if distasteful, business. Surely the thought must have crossed your mind. So why not?”

Dante abruptly turned his back, looking up into the darkened sky. “… I wouldn’t know the first thing about being a father.” Vergil did not know what kind of face Dante was making but by the sadness and longing in his voice he could guess it was one he only rarely wore. Vergil had always thought Dante had gotten the better end of the deal. He was allowed to indulge his whims. Play. Goof off. Meet people and talk and have friends and people he trusted. Vergil never had the time for any of that. It was all he could do to survive. He could only rely on himself. Devils were a threat, and humans were of no help. His mother taught him that. He believed Dante when he said she died looking for him, but that only made it worse. Her heart was big enough to care for everyone, even a devil, but she lacked the strength to do anything about it. Only power could keep you alive, and only your own power mattered. But maybe Dante was not as open as he liked to pretend. For years he hid who he was and worked as an overqualified bounty hunter. There were parts of his life and himself he could not show, not even to Lady or Trish. Things they would not understand.

Vergil put a hand to his neck to work out a knot in his muscles. “Well that makes two of us.”

“I dunno,” Dante said, his voice getting that subtly mocking twinge again. “Your boy didn’t turn out so bad.”

“No thanks to me.”

Dante clicked his tongue and scratched his head with his free hand. He turned to face him again with a smile, though it seemed hastily put together. “Maybe not,” Dante admitted. “But I can see parts of you in him, once I knew to look. The drive. The hunger. The anger. But he also has a sense of honor and decency. ‘The blood will tell’, I guess.”

“Maybe the best thing I ever did for him was leave. If I knew he existed earlier…” He did not need to finish the thought: ‘Mundus would have taken him.’ There was no way Mundus would have given up a grandson of Sparda, and at that time Nero would have been too weak to defend himself. Vergil would have truly become Sparda in the worst way possible: as a father who failed his son.

Dante waved a finger, pointing at Vergil. “And see, that’s what I’m afraid of, too. Any kid I had, I couldn’t do that to. I’d want to be with them. Watch them grow. Teach them everything I know. And someday… well, somebody’s gonna get lucky. Even Dad couldn’t win forever. So which of us would be worse, in the end? A father who saved his son by abandoning him, or the father who gave his kid the promise of a peaceful life he couldn’t keep?”

“Pointless.” Vergil returned to his feet with a kip up. “Neither of us can go back and change the past, and we can trade stories about what could have been all day. It will change nothing.”

Dante scratched his chin. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.” He walked briskly until he was exactly three paces behind Vergil and asked, “So. Mind telling me about her?”

“Who?” He knew who, of course, but he hoped by playing dumb Dante would realize it was an inappropriate question.

No such luck. “The woman who melted the heart of Mr. ‘humans are weak and exist to be victimized’, who else?”

“Haven’t you ever heard that a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell?”

“Gentleman also don’t create portals to hell on two occasions but here we are. C’mon! I’m curious!”

Vergil whirled around and formed a spectral dagger, hurling it at Dante’s head. It missed his cheek by less than an inch and buried itself in the forehead of a demon right behind Dante. The demon shrieked in pain and shock before crumbling to dust from its wound. From the way the shit-eating grin on his face had not budged an inch Vergil could tell Dante was already aware of the creature and also that if Vergil really wanted to put a blade between his eyes he would not have missed. “Just when we were getting somewhere,” Dante lamented. He twirled his sword around his wrist once, then two two brothers spun so they were back to back. “How about we pick up this conversation after?”

“How about you learn to stay out of my business?”

“Never done that before, ain’t starting now.”

The demons chose that moment to begin their attack. The brothers glided across the ground in opposite directions, their weapons flashing and tearing apart demons with every stroke. Vergil leapt into the air and sliced the left arm of the Shadow in front of him at the shoulder, twisting around in midair as he passed over his opponent and his blade flashing to cut off the right arm as well. As he landed he beheaded the creature, then with a short charge severed it at the waist, neatly cutting it into five pieces before the first ones had hit the ground.

“You see?” Dante said while firing Ebony and Ivory in different directions. “This is what I’m talking about. Those are some nice moves but don’t take any pride in them. You never enjoy yourself.”

The Yamato flashed once, twice, thrice, and three demons were bisected crown to toes. Vergil returned his sword to its sheath and grumbled, “My motivation is different from yours. I fight to survive.”

“If you needed to fight seriously against these guys I wouldn’t have promised Nero to get you out of here,” Dante taunted. He put his guns away and delivered a Beowulf-clad foot to the chest of a demon who got too close. Phantom blades from the Devil Sword Dante appeared behind the demon and slashed it in the back, sending it back toward Dante where a Beowulf fist was waiting to knock it back again. Dante yoyo-ed the demon back and forth a few times before four red blades struck the demon at once, ripping it apart by the corners.

So foolish. So inefficient. Vergil was reminded again that despite Dante’s farcical fighting style he had still never managed to kill him, and now he never would. How utterly vexing. His path was clear. Fight through hell, find his son, avenge his loss to Nero. Then, once he had proven his might, kill Dante. That sounded so much easier than learning to get along with his twin brother.


End file.
